When Jesse Met Lucy
by rakestrawberry
Summary: Jesse and Quinn spend their lives looking for love and failing, bumping into each other time and time again. A close friendship eventually blooms between them when they're confronted with the question: Can men and women ever just be friends? A retelling of When Harry Met Sally. St. Fabray.
1. When Jesse Met Quinn

New York in the Fall was one of the most romantic things Rachel Berry had ever seen. The way crisp, withering brown leaves floated through the air and swirled around the glassy, monstrous skyscrapers was... well, to Rachel, it felt like a metaphor for the way she and her peers were just crispy brown leaves floating around in the dazzling city of New York and one day - _soon _- Rachel would turn from a dying leaf to a mighty oak in the middle of Central Park. Rachel really doesn't understand nature... She stood out in the front of the NYADA campus. New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. This was where she belonged. She was sure that NYADA would jump start her transformation into a shining Broadway bound star. She smiled up at the sun and threw her arms over her boyfriend as their fellow students passed them by, pulling luggage around with them.

"I love you," she sighed to Jesse.

Jesse looked down at her, his wavy black hair blowing slightly in the crisp breeze.

"I love _you_," he said, his mouth pulled into an ever present smirk. He leaned down and kissed her, his lips soft and controlled and teasing as he slipped his hands around her waist.

Quinn sat in the driver's seat of her car, parked on the curb just outside the NYADA campus. She kept her leafy green eyes planted firmly on the steering wheel, avoiding having to see her friend getting her smooch on. However, there was nothing she could do to stop from hearing the annoying lip smacking. Quinn had to clear her throat twice before the couple finally parted.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel giggled to herself, blushing like a schoolgirl, "Quinn, this is my boyfriend, Jesse. Jesse, this is Quinn Fabray."

Quinn smiled stiffly as Jesse peered down at her through the car window. He nodded curtly and smirked.

"Nice to meet you," he said, brushing his dark curls back so they wouldn't fall into his eyes, and began to gather his luggage.

Quinn leaned out of the window and noticed that he had several bags lying on the pavement around him; all black suitcases of several sizes that looked ready to burst open.

"You might have to put some in the backseat," she mumbled to him, wondering if she should get out and help him load his many bags into the silver Honda Civic her mom gave her when she got accepted into Yale.

"I'll call you as soon as I get back to Ohio," Jesse said passively to Rachel as he loaded his bags into the car.

"Call me on the road," Rachel said, staring at Jesse with Bambi eyes.

"I love you," he said, sounding as if he were reassuring her, and leaned in for another kiss.

Quinn sat back in her seat and sighed irritably, trying to avoid the PDA. She honked her horn at the couple.

"I miss you already," Jesse said before he slid into the passenger's seat.

"Bye," Rachel sighed at him, before glancing back at Quinn, "Bye, Quinn!"

Quinn smiled stiffly. "Bye, Rachel," she said, and began to drive.

Jesse and Quinn sat in half-comfortable silence as she drove out of the NYADA campus and left the scenic view behind them. Quinn was just about to ask where in Ohio he lived when he cut her off.

"I have it all figured out," he said matter-of-factly as he reached into a messanger bag of his and pulled out a pocket map, "It's a ten hour drive, so we could do five shifts of two hours each or we could break it down by mileage..."

Quinn sighed and began to mentally ready herself for this long road trip, realizing at last that the reason Rachel was so fond of this new boyfriend of hers was that, well, he was _her_. Jesse St. James was indeed a Rachel Berry-alike and while Rachel was, of course, a good friend of Quinn's, she was the last person she wanted to take on a ten-hour road trip. The constant enthusiasm and power struggle would be too much to handle for such a long period in such a confined space. Besides, Quinn had wanted to take her trip back to Ohio _alone_ before she was met with the discomfort of having to see her family again.

"Quinn, are you listening?" asked Jesse, snapping his finger at her.

"Yeah, yeah," said Quinn, shaking herself out of her thoughts, "Shifts and maps and... stuff."

Jesse smirked and put his map away. "I can see that I'm boring you," he said nonchalantly, "So, Quinn, tell me your life story."

Quinn blinked, confused as she kept her eyes on the road. She frowned to herself, sure that he was being sarcastic.

"Listen, I didn't mean to be rude. You weren't boring me, I was just thinking-"

"Not at all, Quinn. I'm not offended," he said, looking and sounding genuine, "I just want to know about you. After all, we have ten hours to kill before we get back to Ohio."

Quinn frowned, not sure how to figure this guy out. "...My life story wouldn't last us until Pennsylvania. Nothing happens to me."

Jesse raised a dark, arched eyebrow. "Nothing?" he repeated, sounding as if it were impossible.

Quinn shrugged. "Nothing important. That's why I left Ohio after graduation."

"So something would happen to you?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Like what?"

Quinn furrowed her brow. "Like... I'm studying at Yale."

"Studying what?"

"Anesthesiology," Quinn replied.

Jesse stared at her silently for a little too long. His unflinching gaze began to make her uncomfortable until he finally asked, "Why?"

Quinn opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of herself. "Anesthesiologists make good money," she said, as if defending herself.

"You left the dullness of Ohio to become an anesthesiologist? That's your big dream? To put laughing gas masks on people so that real doctors can operate?" Jesse said, on the verge of laughter.

Quinn glanced at him and glared, irate. "It's more complicated than that."

"Sure."

"And what's your big dream? Broadway? Movie star? What makes you think it'll happen to you when millions of people want the same thing?"  
Jesse simply smirked. "I'm _me_."

Quinn rolled her eyes. No, this guy wasn't completely like Rachel. He was much more annoying.

"So what if nothing happens to you?" Jesse asked, "What if you become an anesthesiologist and nothing happens to you? You go to work every morning but you never meet anyone and you die alone, and your corpse gets eaten by one of the three cats you own. Or all of your cats, I suppose."

Quinn grimaced. "Rachel mentioned you had a dark side."

"Everyone has a dark side. Or are you one of those vacant, vapid cheerleader types who dots her 'i's with hearts?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I have just as much a dark side as anyone else."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Quinn frowned, "...When I buy a book, I always read the last page first. That way, if I die before I finish the book, at least I know how it ends."

Jesse smirked. "So, what? That doesn't make you deep, Quinn, it just makes you... a vacant, vapid cheerleader type turned hipster."

"I am not a hipster."

"No? Is that dress vintage?"

Quinn quickly glanced down at her yellow eyelet day dress. "It's my mother's... From before she had kids."

Jesse nodded as if that confirmed it. "Do you listen to The Smiths? Do you read Hemingway? Do you own 500 Days of Summer on DVD?"

Quinn irately pursed her lips, her blood boiling because Jesse St. James had inexplicably hit the nail on the head.

"That doesn't make me a hipster," she said weakly, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white.

"No, of course not," Jesse smirked patronisingly.

"Lots of people listen to The Smiths."

"Sure they do."

"And since when was Hemingway hipster? The Sun Also Rises is an American classic."

"Anyone who is reading Hemingway instead of The Hunger Games is a hipster," said Jesse, his tone light and casual, as if he weren't actually insulting her.

"Whatever... I've seen the movie."

"Did you leave the theatre angry because it was a rip-off of Battle Royale?"

"You know what? Happening to like stuff that is a little more obscure and a little less mainstream does not make me a hipster."

"I suppose not," Jesse shrugged, staring out of the window and watching New York disappear, "Not if you genuinely like it."

"Exactly."

"Still no excuse for liking 500 Days of Summer."

"That is a good movie!"

"It's a vanity piece! Zooey Deschanel is a cute hipster for two hours and that's it!"

Ten more minutes was spent on a heated argument about 500 Days of Summers.

"Okay, stop!" Quinn finally said, "Whether 500 Days of Summer is good or not really isn't relevant."

"What do you mean it isn't relevant? Might I remind you that that's what this entire argument is about?"

"No, this argument is about whether or not I am a hipster or not, and I am _not_, because I actually, genuinely like the things I like. I don't act a certain way so that people will think I'm deep or thoughtful, unlike you!"

"I beg your pardon."

"You think you're so special because you have this introspective dark side. Well, you're not. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be happy."

"People don't want to be happy," Jesse said snidely, "People want to be simple."

"There's nothing wrong with that, either."

"I would rather die than be simple."

Quinn laughed. "Don't worry. You'll be melodramatic until the end."

Jesse glared at her, but that glare turned into a smile.

Two hours later, the sun had finished setting and everything around the sparse horizon was painted with an overtone of blue.

"You're wrong," Quinn said, briefly glancing at the clock on her dashboard and seeing that it was already seven o'clock. She would have pulled over so let Jesse start his shift, but she didn't want to do anything until they finished this argument.

"I'm wrong? Wake up," Jesse said with a condescending smirk, "He wanted her to leave. That's why he put her on the plane."

"But _she _wants to stay!"

"Well, of course _she _wants to stay. Wouldn't you rather be with Humphrey Bogart than the other guy?"

"Yeah, Jesse. I want to spend the rest of my life in Casablanca married to a guy who runs a bar. It probably sounds like a snobby, vacant cheerleader type thing to you, but I would have been happy to get out of there."

"And stay in a passionless marriage?" Jesse raises his eyebrow and stares incredulously at her as Quinn spots the neon sign of an all-night diner in the corner of her eye.

"I'd be the first lady of Czechoslovakia."

"You'd give up the man you've had the greatest sex of your life with just because he owns a bar and the other guy owns Czechoslovakia?"

"Yes," Quinn said, parking outside the diner with a tone of finality, "So would any woman. Women are practical. Even Ingrid Bergman. That's why she gets on the plane even though she doesn't want to."

She looks at Jesse with a defiant frown and he stares back at her, his brow wrinkled in mild confusion until suddenly, he's smiling slightly.

"I get it," he says blithely, and gets out of the car.

Quinn blinks and follows him out. "Get what?"

"Nothing," he says, shoving his hand in the pocket of his dark jeans, "It's not important."

"No. What?"

"Forget about it, Quinn," he said, walking through the diner doors, his wavy hair bouncing slightly.

"Just say it, Jesse!"

With his hand still holding open the diner door, Jesse turned back to her and said very nonchalantly, "Obviously you've never had great sex."

Quinn's jaw dropped as he turned away again to a passing waitress and said, "Two, please."

"Yes, I have!"

"No, you haven't," Jesse smirked as the waitress led them to a small table in the corner.

"It just so happens that I have had plenty of good sex!"

Quinn's face began to burn as she felt the diner go silent. Jesse found it hard to hide a smirk as Quinn sat down quietly, her head low. He opted for holding a plastic covered menu in front of his face as he pretended to be engrossed the ingredients in the lemon pepper tilapia.

"With whom?" Jesse asked from behind his menu.

"What?"

"With whom did you have this great sex?" he asked, setting down the menu.

"I'm not going to tell you that!"

"Fine, don't tell me," he said, and put the menu back in front of his face.

He stared at it until he heard her say, "Finn. Finn Hudson."

Jesse wrinkled his nose and set the menu back down. "That sounds like a made up name."

"It does not! Jesse St. James sounds like a made up name!"

"Finn Hudson," Jesse smirked quietly to himself as the waitress approached.

"What'll it be?" she asked, her notebook at the ready.

"I'll have the chef's salad with vinegar and turtle cheesecake," said Jesse, "But I'd like the cheesecake very slightly heated and I'd like chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla, not on top but on the side. If you don't have chocolate than I don't want ice cream, just whipped cream, but if you only have canned whip cream, then nothing."

Quinn and the waitress stared at him.

"Not even the cake?" asked the waitress.

"No, of course I still want the cheesecake, just no cream or ice cream, and not heated."

"And you?" the waitress asked, turning to Quinn.

Quinn blinked at the menu. "...Pancake puppies."

The waitress left with their order and Jesse shook his head at Quinn.

"Pancake puppies?"

"What's wrong with pancake puppies?"

"That's all you're eating? Balls of fried dough? Do you _want _your arteries?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I deserve to indulge a little before I get to the Hell that is my parents' house. And don't you dare act like I'm the one with the weird eating habits."

"I know what I want," Jesse shrugged, "So why did you and Finn break up?"

"How do you know we broke up?"

"Because if you didn't break up, you wouldn't be here with me, you'd be with Finn, the sex monkey."

Quinn snorted at Jesse saying 'sex monkey'. "We just... broke up. I was graduating and I didn't need him anymore."

Jesse frowned. "Didn't _need _him anymore?"

"Yes! I was moving to Connecticut to go to Yale. What's the point of having a boyfriend if he's not even around?"

"You broke up with him because he was an inconvenience. Dead weight."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to. Obviously he wasn't that important to you - and the sex wasn't _that _great. Essentially, it's the same thing as when you're moving somewhere and you find a cardigan you never wear and so you throw it away instead of bringing it with you because it's just a waste of space. Finn Hudson is your waste of space. Or your cardigan."

Quinn frowned sternly as the waitress reappeared with a plastic basket of donut holes and placed them on the table.

"We'll have your order in a few minutes," the waitress said to Jesse and left.

"That's what you get for having a complicated order. Now you have to wait," said Quinn, taking a bite out of the hot, doughy circles.

"My orders are worth the wait," Jesse said absentmindedly, "Hold on, so you broke up with your boyfriend after your high school graduation?"

"Yes."

"So the best sex you've ever had is with your high school boyfriend?"

"Yes," Quinn said through gritted teeth.

"Impossible."

"It's very possible," Quinn grimaced, "It was prom night and Finn booked a hotel room for our first time together. It was very romantic."

Jesse threw his head back and laughed. "_First time_? The best sex of your life was the time you lost your _virginity_?"

"Yes," Quinn said, getting red, "_So_?"

"So, Quinn, that's simply ridiculous. The first sex you'll have is the worst sex you'll have. It's a fact."

"It is not," Quinn grimaced.

"Is to," Jesse said childishly, "So you're a liar. You've never had great sex."

"Shut up!"

When the two of them finished their late dinners, Quinn gathered her things after paying the bill and thought to herself that maybe being at her parent's house for Thanksgiving might not be so bad after spending ten hours with Jesse St. She looked up, waiting for him to follow her and was surprised by the look he was giving her. Smirking, as always, but with some sort of inquisitiveness in his gray eyes, and he just stared at her like this for longer than was comfortable.

"What?" she demanded, and when he kept staring she said, "Do I have something on my face?"

"You're a very attractive person," he finally said in a strangely polite, matter-of-fact tone.

Quinn paused for a moment, brushing her blond hair over her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Rachel never mentioned how attractive you are."

"Maybe she doesn't think I'm attractive."

"I don't think it's a matter of opinion. You're traditionally attractive."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Rachel is my friend."

"So?"

"So, you're her boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, you're hitting on me!" Quinn shook her head as she walked out of the diner.

"No, I wasn't!" Jesse said defensively as he followed her out, "Can't a man tell a woman she's attractive without it being a come on?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and got into the passenger's seat of her car.

"Fine, fine, let's say for argument's sake that I was hitting on you," Jesse said, leaning into the window before he got inside, "What do you want me to do about it? I'll take it back if that'll make you happy."

"You can't take it back," Quinn sighed as he got into the driver's seat, "It's out there."

"So what do we do now?"

"Just let it go."

"Fine," Jesse said as he started the car and pulled out of the diner's parking lot, "Let it go. Good idea. Let it go... So, you want to get a room?"

Quinn turned to Jesse, her mouth open in shock.

"See what I did there?" he smirked, "I didn't let it go."

"Jesse... Can we just be friends?" Quinn asked wearily.

"Great. Friends," said Jesse, driving through the dark night, "Except, of course, that we could never be friends."

"Why not?" Quinn asked, only really humoring him as she leaned her head against the window.

"Now, listen, I'm not hitting on you in any way, shape or form, but men and women can't be friends because sex always gets in the way," he said.

Quinn rose her head and stared at him. "That's not true."

"Of course it is."

"I have male friends and there is no sex involved."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do!"

"You only think you do."

"You're saying I'm having sex with them without knowing it?" Quinn scoffed.

"No, I'm saying they all want to have sex with you."

Quinn frowned. "They do not."

"Do to."

"How would you know?"

"Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her."

"So a man can be friends with a woman as long as he doesn't find her attractive."

"No, they pretty much want to nail them, too."

"What if they don't want to have sex with you?"

"Irrelevant. Sex is already involved so the friendship is doomed and that's the end of the story."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I guess we're not going to be friends, then."

"Guess not."

"Too bad. You've been such a delight to get to know."

It was morning when they finally stopped at the Akron bus station and Quinn helped Jesse remove his bountiful luggage from her car.

"God, what is in here?" Quinn frowned, "All of your hair products."

"Just the essentials," said Jesse, "So... thanks for the ride."

"Yeah, it was interesting," said Quinn as he gathered his things.

"I'll probably get a taxi to my parent's house," said Jesse.

"Visiting them for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah. I'm about as excited to see them as you are to see yours."

Quinn smirked. "Too bad Rachel didn't come. She's the only one I know who likes her parents."

"Yeah, well..." Jesse trailed off, not sure what to say, "Have a nice life, I guess."

"You, too," said Quinn, and got back into her car. As she drove away, she was surprised to find that she was a little regretful that she didn't ask Jesse if he wanted to ride back to New York with her after Thanksgiving. Then she reminded herself that she doesn't ever want to see Jesse St. James again.


	2. When Jesse Met the Future Mrs Evans

Five Years Later

Quinn smiled blissfully, her eyes closed as she kissed her boyfriend, never letting him out of her grasp. She knew how they looked to the other people in the airport and it made her even happier. She and Sam looked like the kind of couple you'd pick out of a bridal magazine, flashing pearly white grins with the sun on their backs. Quinn could easily be that bride. Sam's bride. He wrapped his muscular arms around her and nuzzled her ear. She giggled gleefully until she noticed someone staring. Someone who looked... vaguely familiar.

Quinn nudged Sam and nodded to the man staring at them from a few feet away in the airport's terminal. He stood there with dark hair and a briefcase, and a smug smirk on his face.

"Sam," he smirked and leaned forward to give Quinn's boyfriend a handshake, "I thought it was you! Jesse St. James."

Quinn stared, her face frozen when she realized who this stranger was. Not a stranger at all, but Rachel Berry's old college boyfriend. His dark curly hair was shorter. It made him look older and more refined. Of course, he probably was.

"Jesse, right, how are you?" Sam smiled politely as he shook Jesse's hand.

"Fine, fine," said Jesse, barely glancing at Quinn.

She just stared at him, wondering why he wasn't recognizing her. Was she that unrecognizable? Sure, her hair was shorter than it was in college, but still...

"What have you been up to?" Sam asked.

"Working with this independent theatre group," Jesse shrugged.

"Oh, wow, that's great," said Sam, "Oh, sorry, Jesse, this is Quinn Fabray. Jesse and I used to live in the same building..."

Quinn smiled politely at Jesse and noticed the faint surprise in his eyes as he finally recognized her. Of course, it was quickly masked by smug indifference, but Quinn still took some satisfaction in the fact that he was caught off guard.

"Well, listen, I have a plane to catch, but it was really good to see you, Sam," said Jesse, never taking his eyes off of Quinn.

"You, too, man," said Sam.

"Bye," Jesse nodded.

Quinn just nodded. For some reason her words were stuck in her throat. Jesse walked off and Quinn exhaled dramatically.

"Thank God he didn't recognize me," she said to Sam, "I drove from college back to Ohio with him five years ago and it was the longest night of my life."

"What happened?"

"Well, he hit on me and when I rejected him because he was dating my friend, Rachel-"

"Rachel Berry?"

Quinn sighed. "Yes, _the _Rachel Berry. The movie star."

"Sorry, sorry," Sam grinned, "So, what happened?"

"When?"

"He hit on you, you said no..."

"Oh, right. I said we could just be friends and then he... he said men and women could never really be friends. Do you think he's right?"

"No," Sam said after some hesitation.

"Do you have any friends who are women?"

Sam furrowed his brow. "No... But I will get one if it's important to you."

Quinn leaned in and kissed him, a blithe smile on her face. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he replied, "I love you."

Quinn blinked. "You do?"

"Yes," Sam laughed.

"...Oh... I love you, too, then."

Quinn smiled to herself even as she took her seat on the plane. Even as it was taking off, she repeated Sam's 'I love you' in her head, just the way he had said it. 'He _loves _me' she thought to herself. She'd heard it before, from boys in high school, even boys in college, but this was different. This was... grown up. Sam had the potential to be her future husband. She would be Quinn Evans. Blushing bride Quinn Evans. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the flight attendants leaning over to the two seats in front of her.

"Any drinks?" she asked the passengers.

"Do you have a Bloody Mary mix?"

Quinn looked up as a head of cropped dark curls leaned forward to talk to the hostess.

"Yes," the attendant replied with a smile.

"Could I have a glass of three quarters tomato juice with just a splash of Bloody Mary mix and a lime on the side?"

Quinn couldn't help but chuckle. "You haven't changed at all," she said, and apparently she said it a little too loud, because Jesse St. James turned around in his seat and leaned over to get a good look at her.

"We've met," he said, flashing her a toothy grin.

"Mm hm," she said, starting to blush under his stare.

"Did we ever, uh... you know?"

"No!" Quinn snapped, "Don't pretend you don't remember who I am! We spent the longest ten hours on earth together!"

Jesse smirked, and wrinkled his brow in mock confusion. "And you're sure we never slept together?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and noticed the man sitting next to her in the aisle seat smirking to himself as he overheard their conversation. She leaned over to the middle-aged man and said, "We drove from New York to Ohio together five years ago."

The man nodded. "Would you two like to sit together?" he offered.

"No," said Quinn.

"Yes," said Jesse, and promptly switched seats with the man, "Thank you!"

Quinn gritted her teeth and folded her arms, thinking about how all of her longest journeys somehow involved this guy.

"You were a friend of Rachel Berry's," he said, staring at her, "I say 'were' because I'm sure she has no use for the little people nowadays."

"I am not a little..." Quinn furrowed her brow, "You know what? No. I'm not about to start arguing with you in front of all these people. We're adults now."

"We were adults then," Jesse defended.

Quinn scoffed. "Barely. We probably thought we were adults. When you're nineteen you think you know everything."

"Rachel Berry really did, though," said Jesse.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. Five years ago, Rachel was pretty set on being Mrs. Jesse St. James."

Jesse smirked. "I wasn't as important as the big picture. Her real love was Broadway. I was just a backup. Now after a year of playing Elphaba in Wicked, she's eclipsing Katherine Heigl in the romantic comedy department and not staying in touch with a single one of her old friends. Do you think it was worth it?"

"What?"

"Not sleeping together because of Rachel."

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "You were dating her!"

"And you think that sacrifice was worth staying loyal to a friend you haven't talked to in years?"

Quinn grinned. "Jesse, no offense, but I never considered not sleeping with you to be a sacrifice."

Jesse did his trademark smirk, only this time he nodded to her as if saying 'kudos'. "Fair enough," he said, taking a sip of water from a plastic airplane cup. He looked up suddenly and said to her, "You were studying to be a paleontologist."

"Anesthesiologist," Quinn sighed.

"Right, that's what I meant. And?"

"And... I decided to study general medicine instead. Went to med school."

"You did? And now...?"

Quinn sighed, irritably. "I'm an intern now."

"A surgical intern?"

"Yes."

"Wow," Jesse breathed, "So you're a real doctor! A real surgeon!"

Quinn smiled smugly at his praise. "Yes... Yes, I am."

"And not a laughing gas administrator like you wanted to be."

"It's not... It's more complicated than that-"

"You took my advice."

"What? What advice?"

"I told you anesthesiology was a bad idea. Dull. Now you're an exciting surgeon, because of me."

Quinn scoffed. "Sure, Jesse," she shook her head and looked at the clouds outside of her oval airplane window, "I'm a sugical intern all because of you."

"And now you're with Sam."

"Yes."

"That's great. You're together, what, three weeks?"

Quinn paused. "...A month."

"Are you gonna marry him?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "It's only been a month. Besides, we're twenty four. Why rush?"

Jesse shrugged. "I'm getting married," he said casually.

"You are?" Quinn asked, surprised, "_You _are?"

"Mm hm."

"To who?"

"A dancer," Jesse said simply, "We work for the same theatre group."

Quinn laughed. "You're getting married."

"Yes. What's so funny about that?" asked Jesse, staring at her incredulously.

"It's just so... happy. Simple," Quinn smirked.

"You'll be amazed what falling madly in love can do to a person," said Jesse, "I lead a happy and simple life. My fiance is... happy and she's... well, she's very simple."

"Wow," Quinn shook her head, "I was wrong. You have changed."

Jesse shrugged. "You just get tired of doing the whole routine after a certain point."

"What routine?"

"The single man's dating life. You meet a girl, you have lunch, then dinner, then dancing, you finally have sex and you lie there wondering how long you have to hold her before you can get up and go home."

Quinn stared at him, disgust visible on her face. "That's what you're thinking?! Is that true?"

"Of course it is. How long do you like to be held afterwards? All night, right? See, that's the problem. Somewhere between thirty seconds and all night is the problem."

Quinn glared at him. "I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do."

They didn't talk much until they landed. Quinn walked through the airport and Jesse followed her closely.

"Would you like to have dinner?" he asked her and she looked at him as if she hadn't realized he was there.

She glared.

"Just friends," he clarified.

"I thought you said men and women couldn't be friends."

"When did I say that?"

"Five years ago."

"That doesn't sound right. Someone else must have said that to you. I never said that," said Jesse, "Men and women can't be friends... unless they're both involved with other people. Then they can."

Quinn smirked. "Jesse?"

"Yes?"

"Goodbye."


	3. When Jesse Met Kurt

Another Five Years Later

Quinn's mind was wandering far away, staring at nowhere in particular in a Manhattan al fresco restaurant as her friends bantered with each other. Kurt and Tina didn't seem to notice as she drifted out of conversation.

"So, I went through his briefcase," said Kurt, leaning over a chef salad.

"Why do you go through his stuff, Kurt?" Tina smirked at her friend and shook her head disapprovingly.

"Do you know what I found?"

"What?"

"A receipt for a dining room table," Kurt sighed scandalously, "He and his wife just bought a dining room table!"

"Where?"

Kurt scoffed. "Does it matter where? The point is, I'm stuck being a male concubine to a closeted Republican _yet again_. He told me he would leave his wife, but the sixteen hundred dollar polished mahogany would beg to differ."

"This isn't something new," Tina smiled sadly, "This is Manhattan. Why can't you meet a nice, single, _out_ gay guy? They're everywhere."

"You are the last person I want lecturing me about finding a nice single guy," Kurt said, taking a sip of mimosa, "You're married and Mike is perfect, so don't pretend to know how it is for those who wander the TV dinner aisle. You have someone. Quinn has someone."

Quinn turned her attention to Kurt.

"Sam and I broke up," she said abruptly.

"When?" asked Kurt.

"Monday."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" asked Tina.

"Is he gay?" asked Kurt.

"Kurt!" Tina snapped, "Quinn is obviously upset-"

"I'm not," Quinn shook her head, "We've been growing apart for a while now."

"But you had someone," said Kurt, "Someone to bring you places. A date on national holidays."

"And I decided that I deserved more than that," shrugged Quinn, "I deserve to have someone understand the busy schedule and the demands I'm under. I mean, no offense to Sam's career choices, but sports medicine just isn't the same as neurosurgery."

Kurt shook his head. "So you're going to only date other surgeons now?"

"No," Quinn sighed, "If I do find someone, he has to be self-sufficient. And understanding. He doesn't have to be a surgeon, but he has to be at least as ambitious as I am."

"I'm impressed," said Tina, "You're in such great shape."

"I've had some time to get used to the break up," Quinn shrugged, "And I'm okay."

"Good," Kurt said, taking out his Blackberry.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Tina sighed.

"I'm setting up Quinn."

"No, you are not," Quinn frowned, "Kurt, I don't want to be set up."

"I thought you were over Sam."

"I am, but... I'm taking a break from dating."

xxx

Jesse looked at himself in his dressing room mirror. Even he had to admit that at thirty, he was in his pique. His dark, wavy hair was cropped and his strong jaw was really defining. He could see why women all over America fawned over him. Of course, he wasn't movie star famous. Most of Jesse's fanbase were middle-aged divorcees, but that's what happens when you host a daytime talk show. He looked at the wrinkles in his forehead and stopped scowling so that his face would soften.

"When did this happen?" asked Blaine, with a Bluetooth headset in his ear.

"Close the door," said Jesse, and rose from the seat at his vanity table, and leaned against it, facing Blaine Anderson, who was not only his dutiful assistant but probably his best friend.

"I thought you and Brittany were so happy together," Blaine shook his head of gelled black hair.

"I thought so, too," Jesse said, strangely calm, "Until she told me last night that she doesn't want to be married to me anymore."

"What did you say?"

"I told her to slow down. To think about it. Not make any rash decisions."

"And?"

"And she's surprisingly adamant about it," Jesse sighed, "I'd never seen Brittany so insistent on anything since the day she tried to convince me a stalk of broccoli had cookie-baking elves living inside of it. I asked her... I said, don't you love me anymore?"

"What did she say?"

Jesse said. "She said... She said she loves Santana."

Blaine's brown eyes widened. "Who's Santana?"

"Brittany's salsa partner," said Jesse, "Santana is a woman."

Blaine exhaled. "Brittany left you for a woman?"

"I mean, I knew she was bisexual. I knew that, so it shouldn't come as a shock to me, but I guess I always thought that if she fell in love with someone else, male or female, she would have the decency to have a good old-fashioned affair and not embarrass me by demanding a divorce to be with a woman."

Blaine furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. How is it going to look when Jesse St. James, sensational TV love guru, doesn't even recognize that his own wife is in love with another woman? I'm going to be the laughing stock of daytime talk shows!"

"No, Wendy Williams is the laughing stock of daytime talk shows," Blaine shook his head, "Everyone knows that."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you want my advice as a friend or as an assistant?"

"Assistant."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Fine. So, you're worried that without your pretty blond wife, people will question your dating advice?"

"Precisely."

"So get yourself an even prettier, even blonder girlfriend," said Blaine, "That way, when people get wind of your divorce, you'll already have a gorgeous girl on your arm and it'll look like you've decided to become the Don Lothario of Manhattan again."

Jesse broke into a smile and beamed at Blaine. "You're a genius. Truly, you're a genius, Blaine."

"Thank you. Now, do you want my advice as your friend?"

"Nope. I'm good for now," smirked Jesse.

"Jesse, come on."

Jesse groaned. "Fine," he said reluctantly, "What is it?"

"I think you should take some time off to reflect. Infidelity isn't what breaks up a marriage. It's just a symptom that something else is wrong."

Jesse frowned. "Meanwhile, that symptom is screwing my wife."

xxx

Quinn picked up a book off of the shelf in the classics aisle. A Virginia Andrews novel. She remembered reading a bunch of Virginia Andrews books back in high school. Tons of series based on families that were more screwed up than her own. Quinn frowned to herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd read a book.

"So I was going through his briefcase," Kurt started as he pretended to flip through a Jane Austen novel.

Quinn sighed. "And what did you find?" she humored him.

"A credit card bill," moaned Kurt, "For a two hundred dollar _nightgown_. He's never going to leave his wife, is he?"

"No," said Quinn, "You already know that."

"I know, I know," sighed Kurt, "I just have a thing for state senators, I guess."

"What you need is someone honest and reliable," Quinn said as she put her Virginia Andrews book back on the shelf, "And out of the closet. And maybe unmarried, too. Someone like-"

"_Jesse St. James!_" Kurt hissed.

Quinn blinked, taken off guard. "...What did you just say?"

"Jesse St. James," Kurt whispered excitedly, "He's here!"

"Where?" Quinn hissed, and Kurt nodded over to the self-help section.

There he was, looking no different than he had five years ago when they shared a plane together. The only thing out of place was that Jesse wasn't wearing his usual smirk. Instead, he was scowling down at a dating guide. Quinn would have been amused if she wasn't so surprised. Jesse St. James, thirty, unhappy and looking for dating advice. Who knew?

"Wait, how do you know Jesse?"

Kurt blinked down at Quinn. "Are you being serious right now?"

"What?"

"That is Jesse St. James," Kurt said, as if that was supposed to mean something, "He's the host of Moment of Truth!"

"Which is?"

"Only the best daytime talk show centred on dating and relationships to grace our television screens," Kurt gushed, "I mean, good God, woman."

Quinn looked at Jesse, impressed. "I don't watch TV," she said simply.

"He has a book!" said Kurt, glancing over at Jesse, "He's looking at it right now! This is too good!"

Quinn squinted at the book Jesse was scowling at and sure enough, it was his grinning show face on the cover, titled 'Moment of Truth'.

"I guess he really made it," Quinn shrugged.

"Wait," said Kurt, "If you don't know about Moment of Truth, then where do you know him from?"

"What? Oh... We've only met twice. We drove from New York to Ohio together in college."

Kurt's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Are you serious? What was he like?"

"Annoying," Quinn wrinkled her nose, "And then when I started dating Sam, we were on the same flight to Ohio."

"And you sat by him?"

"Yes."

"Oh my Ke$ha," Kurt fanned himself, "That man is a God."

"He's obnoxious."

"Did you two ever... you know?"

"No!" Quinn said too loudly.

Jesse stopped scowling at his book and looked up at her, blinking several times before he could place her. He looked honestly surprised for a moment, before he grinned widely. He strode over in his tight, dark jeans.

"Quinn Fabray," he greeted her with his pearly white grin, "I thought it was you."

"It is," Quinn sighed, already annoyed by his cheesy smile, "Hi, Jesse. This is my friend, Kurt."

Kurt stared at Jesse, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "I am such a big fan."

"Oh," Jesse beamed, "Always nice to meet a fan."

Jesse held out his hand and Kurt shook it, holding on a little too long and a little too hard.

"You dated Rachel Berry," Kurt blurted out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just... She's like my hero. Besides you."

Jesse nodded. "Rachel is a terrific actress," he smiled falsely, "Sure, she was sort of irrelevant for a while, but business is booming for her once again after Wicked was adapted to film."

"I know," Kurt smiled, "She's fabulous. I just bought her debut album three days ago and I've already listened to it a hundred times. Why didn't she make one sooner?"

Jesse chuckled. "You know, I have a feeling if Rachel knew you in college, you two would have been good friends."

Kurt gasped, blushing wildly. "No! Really?"

"Sure," smirked Jesse, "Right, Quinn? You and Rachel were good friends in college."

Kurt's eyes widened at his friend. "You were?!"

"Yeah," Quinn sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"Not important?!"

"How are you, Quinn?" Jesse asked, staring at her with his piercing eyes, as if analysing her face.

"Fine," Quinn nodded, "Fine."

"I'll give you two some privacy," Kurt smirked and giddily skipped away.

"How's Sam?" Jesse asked Quinn, seeming not to even know that Kurt had left.

"Fine..." Quinn sighed, "I hear he's fine."

"You're not together anymore?"

"We just broke up."

"Oh. Well, that's too bad."

"Yeah," Quinn shrugged, "Well, you know... Yeah."

Jesse pursed his lips and thought to himself for a moment. "I'm getting a divorce."

"Oh. I'm... so sorry."

"Really?" Jesse smirked, "Then let me take you to dinner."

"Wh- I-..." Quinn stammered, "I don't know-"

"Come on," groaned Jesse, "It's just dinner. I have no hidden agenda."

"Well..."

"Other than wanting the press to see me with a beautiful woman so they don't think I'm lonely and pathetic."

Quinn exhaled. "You really don't change, Jesse."

xxx

"When Sam and I started dating, we both wanted the same thing," Quinn shrugged and leaned back in her seat, away from a half eaten grilled salmon and an almost empty glass of chardonnay, "We were both in the medical career. We wanted a nice spacious apartment in Manhattan. A marriage. Kids. We had even picked out names. I mean, we weren't even trying for kids yet, but we knew it would happen someday. We thought we had it all figured out. But really, what does a twenty-four year old know about anything? Practically just a baby."

Jesse took a sip of bordeaux. "What were the names?"

"Really? That's what you want to hear about?"

Jesse nodded. "Tell me."

Quinn sighed, and complied. "For a girl, Mary Judith. Our mothers' names. And for a boy, Stuart Thomas. Stuart because all the boys in Sam's family have names starting with S, and Thomas because I like the name Thomas."

"Mary and Stuart," Jesse smirked, "Thank God you didn't have kids with him."

Quinn scowled. "_Anyways_... as much as I talked about the marriage and the kids, I guess I just wasn't ever ready for it to happen. I liked the idea of it, you know. Wedding dresses and maternity clothes and strollers and... I guess it was just an idea. I didn't really want it to become a reality. I wanted sex on the kitchen floor without having to worry about the kids coming in. Flying off to Rome on a moment's notice."

"When I have kids, they'll have badass names," Jesse said to himself, "Like Reeves and Aniston. Aniston St. James. That has a ring to it."

"Are you still hung up on the baby names? Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I'm listening. You don't want a wedding and babies, you want floor sex and impromptu vacations. I hear you. The problem is, Sam isn't the guy to give that to you. Sam is the dependable guy. Not the spontaneous guy. You have to date at least one guy who will seduce you on an elevator so you can get all of that passion out of your system. Then you can go back to a guy like Sam and have love and marriage."

"Can't I have both?" Quinn asked thoughtfully, "Love and marriage _and _spontaneity. "

Jesse smirked. "No. Marriage goes hand in hand with boredom and resentment and inevitable betrayal."

Quinn glared at him.

"You have to quit it with the scowling," said Jesse, "I want people to think you're my girlfriend. You have to look happy to be around me."

Quinn flashed him a wide, cheesy grin, and gave him the finger. "Happy enough for you?"

Jesse smirked and shook his head at her. "You are so crude, Quinn Fabray," he sighed, "You'll never do. I'll just have to call Blake Lively."

"You do that," Quinn smirked.

They continued to talk as they walked through Central Park. A few middle-aged Manhattan divorcees pointed at Jesse, but so far, no one had noticed Quinn. It was probably a good thing. Sure, Quinn was just as blond and pretty as Brittany, probably more, but Jesse wasn't about to make her his girlfriend, fake or not. She was just so... well, Quinn. No, Blake Lively would have to do. If not, then maybe he'd have to ask Amanda Seyfried for a favour. Jesse looked over at Quinn. Then again, maybe being so... well, Quinn, wasn't a bad thing.

"You know, when we first met, I really didn't like you very much," he said to her.

Quinn blinked at him. "No, _I _didn't like _you_."

"Of course you did. You were just so uptight back then. You're a little more relaxed now."

Quinn scoffed. "Thanks for the backhanded compliment."

"Fine. You're still as cold as ice."

"I just didn't want to sleep with you and you took it as a personal attack."

"How could I not?" Jesse smirked, "The only reason anyone wouldn't want to sleep with me is out of spite. Even that friend of yours... Chris?"

"Kurt."

"Yeah, Kurt. He would've had his way with me if he had the chance."

"I'm not denying that," Quinn smirked, "I guess your show is his religion."

"You watch it?"

"Honestly? I'd never heard of it until Kurt told me when he spotted you in the bookstore."

Jesse smirked. "Do you _own _a TV?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, that explains it, then."

"Would you want to have dinner at my place sometime?"

Jesse stopped in his tracks and smirked with an eyebrow raised. "Are we becoming friends?"

Quinn hesitated. "...Yeah. I guess so."

"Hm," Jesse smiled to himself as the pair continued walking, "A woman friend. You know, you're probably the only attractive woman I've not wanted to sleep with in my entire life."

"That's wonderful, Jesse."


	4. When Blaine Met Kurt

"You sent flowers... to yourself?" asked Quinn.

"Sixty dollars I spent on an arrangement," Kurt explained as he and Quinn walked side by side through the city in the late evening, "And had it sent to my floor, just hoping that he would look through the glass walls of his office and see my flowers at the receptionist's desk."

"And did it work?" asked Quinn.

"He wasn't even there all day," Kurt sighed.

"Well, senators are usually busy."

"Sure, busy attending stupid charity auctions set up by their beard wives. He is never going to leave her."

Quinn groaned. "He's definitely not."

"I know, I know," Kurt sighed, "Where is this place?"

"Somewhere around the block."

"Thanks again for setting this up," Kurt smiled excitedly.

"Calm down," Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile, "It's not like it's a date. Jesse may wear a lot of hair product but he's definitely a fan of the ladies."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

Quinn smirked. "True."

xxx

"I don't know if I want to do this, Jesse," Blaine complained.

Jesse stood tall with his hand clasped behind his back as he looked around at the tall shelves and arrangements in a furniture and decor store.

"What are you talking about?" he asked Blaine, who was looking at him with his arms sternly folded over his argyle sweater vest.

"I'm finally in a place in my life where I'm comfortable focusing on my work."

"Your work?" Jesse raised his eyebrow, "You mean substituting my company for having a real boyfriend. No, that won't do."

Blaine sighed. "I don't need to be set up."

"I'm sure you don't. And you won't be. Kurt Hummel isn't here for you, Blaine, he's here to redecorate my apartment. If you two happen to hit it off while in each other's company, then great. If not, just talk to Quinn until we finish up."

Blaine grimaced. "I'm not okay with this."

"Blaine," Jesse groaned, "Don't be so pessimistic. Kurt is a charismatic man. Did I tell you he worked for the state senate?"

Blaine frowned. "Yes, but I was more so referring to you renting out an entire furniture store in the middle of the night."

"You know I hate crowds."

Jesse and Blaine turned their attention to the door as Quinn and Kurt arrived, Kurt smiling giddily.

"Well, hello," Jesse smiled, "Thank you two for coming."

"It's no problem at all," Kurt grinned, "Home decorating is my forte."

"And you _need _your home decorated," Quinn shook her head.

"Forgive me, Quinn, Kurt, this is my assistant and good friend, Blaine Anderson," said Jesse, "Blaine, this is Dr. Quinn Fabray and constituent liaison caseworker Kurt Hummel," Jesse said very formally.

"Nice to meet you," Blaine smiled warmly.

"So, shall we?" Jesse smiled at Kurt, "Quinn tells me I need a pop of color in my apartment. I'm very prone to black."

"Well, black goes with everything. I already have a vision! Follow me to the throw pillows!" Kurt squealed and led Jesse away.

An awkward silence passed over Blaine and Quinn as they stood together alone until Quinn asked, "So what is it like being Jesse's assistant?"

Blaine smirked. "Interesting."

"You know, you can tell me if you think he's an ass," said Quinn, "He has that effect on people."

Blaine laughed. "Don't worry. I've known Jesse for a while now and he's... well, he's complicated."

"If by complicated you mean obnoxious."

Blaine smirked at her. "Why are you his friend if you find him so irritating?"

Quinn sighed and thought to herself. "I guess, somehow, I like it when he's obnoxious. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, but at least he's honest. I feel if the rest of us were just as honest as Jesse, we'd be just as annoying."

"I see what you mean," smirked Blaine, "Is he really, though? Honest?"

"What do you mean?"

Blaine glanced over at Jesse and Kurt going through paint samples and carpet fabrics. Although Kurt was engrossed in telling Jesse all about the pros and cons of a terracotta kitchen tile, Jesse kept looking at Quinn every few seconds, a wry smile on his face.

"Nothing," said Blaine, "What he is, is controlling. Did he tell you his real agenda for tonight?"

"No," Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He wants to set me up with your friend," Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Oh," said Quinn, surprised, her eyes darting between Blaine and Kurt, "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You'd be good for Kurt. Really good. And he would not pass up a cute single guy like you," Quinn smirked, "And he's good, you know. You'd like him. I'll be honest, he can be jealous. And clingy, and over-dramatic. And sometimes he can get so far stuck in denial you don't think he'll ever get back out. But everyone has their flaws, and Kurt's a good guy. He has so much passion and love. I can see why Jesse would set you two up."

Blaine smiled to himself. "I can see why Jesse likes you so much."

Quinn looked surprised. "Huh?"

"You see things with a clear eye. The good and the bad. You see things for what they are. You see their flaws and their beauty."

Quinn shrugged. "I guess so."

"That's a good quality to have," said Blaine.

xxx

Six Months Later

"I need this," Jesse said, marvelling at a crystal cut vase that sat on a pedestal at a Manhattan wedding gift store.

"Would you stop it?" Quinn rolled her eyes, "We're here for Kurt and Blaine."

Jesse sighed. "All they have here is homemade fudge and bath salts."

"Good," Quinn folded her arms, "Kurt and Blaine love fudge and bath salts."

"Quinn!" Jesse gasped, "Look no further."

He rushed over to a retro karaoke machine and turned on the microphone.

"Quinn, this is what we need," he said into the microphone, his voice echoing out of the speakers. He turned around and switched a random song on.

"Oklahoma?" Quinn sidled over to him.

"Ah, The Surrey With the Fringe On Top," Jesse smirked as the music started, "Sing with me, Quinn."

Quinn peered down at the lyrics as Jesse already began to sing.

"_Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry, when I take you out to the surrey, when I take you out in the surrey with the fringe on top,_" Jesse sang in a cheesy voice, "Come on, Fabray!"

"_Watch the fringe and see how it flutters_," Quinn joined him in the ridiculous song, "_When I drive them high steppin strutters. Nosey pokes'll peek through their shutters and their eyes will pop. The wheels are yellow, the upholstery's brown, the dashboard's genuine leather with isinglass curtains you can..._"

It took a moment before Quinn realized that Jesse had stopped singing and was staring solemnly in another direction.

"What?" Quinn asked into the microphone, "What's wrong? I'm no Rachel Berry, but jeez, I'm not that bad. I did have a little stint in glee club back in high school and I was told that I was very-"

"It's Brittany," said Jesse, pushing the microphone out of Quinn's face, "She's coming over."

Quinn looked in the same direction that Jesse was staring and sure enough, a beautiful, athletic, tall, blond woman was sauntering over with a sweet smile and another woman on her arm - a dark-haired Latina with a very Jesse-like smirk. The women were holding hands and they stopped walking a few feet away from Jesse and Quinn.

"Hi, Jesse," the blond said, in a lighthearted way that was unlike Jesse's casually mocking tone, but more genuine, like a schoolgirl come to say hi to someone from across the playground.

"Hello," said Jesse, sounding bitter.

"This is Santana," Brittany introduced her new girlfriend, who smirked stiffly and falsely.

"Santana," Jesse nodded and didn't shake her hand, "This is Dr. Quinn Fabray. Quinn, this is Brittany Pierce. And Santana."

"Hi," said Brittany.

"Hi," said Quinn, clearly uncomfortable.

After a long awkward silence, Brittany said, "Well... Bye."

"Yeah. Bye," said Jesse, and watched the two women walk away.

Quinn sighed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm perfect," Jesse said in a rehearsed tone, "Santana looked weird, didn't she? Tired."

"I've never seen her before," Quinn shrugged.

"Trust me, she looked different. Heavier. Maybe she's retaining water."

"Jesse!"

"What? She looks like she's getting cankles. That's all I'm saying."

Quinn tried not to grin. She'd never seen Jesse jealous to the point of false criticisms.

"She looked like a whale," Quinn humored him.

"I know, right?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It had to happen sometime. We're both in the entertainment business. What with her dancing for SNL and my friendship with Jason Sudeikis, we were bound to run into each other sometime. It happened. I'm over it."

Quinn paused. "Why do you always introduce me as Dr. Quinn Fabray? Why not just Quinn?"

"What, like, hello everyone, meet my friend, 'just Quinn'? That'll never do. Dr. Quinn Fabray sounds important. And you're important. Important people deserve important titles. Like when I set up Kurt and Blaine, I introduced Kurt as constituent liaison caseworker Kurt Hummel. Now they're getting married."

"Oh, stop. You are not the reason Kurt and Blaine are getting married. I was the one who talked up Kurt while you two were shopping."

"_I _was the one who set them up, thank you very much."

Quinn sighed. "I'll let you have this one, St. James."

xxx

"I like it," Blaine folded his arms, "It looks good to me."

"Alright, alright," Kurt sighed, "We'll let Jesse and Quinn judge. Guys? English Fire or Tudor Rose?"

Jesse and Quinn stood together in Kurt and Blaine's new Midtown apartment and looked down at the paint samples.

"They both look the same to me," Quinn muttered.

"What is your Anglo obsession?" Jesse raised an eyebrow, "Why can't you go for something a little more American? Might I remind you that you're not the Middletons."

Blaine sighed. "I mean, we always have that Serrano Red."

"Oh, no," said Kurt, "We are not having the Serrano Red argument again."

"Come on, you shoot down all of my ideas! We couldn't have the lime bar stools either."

"Because we already have lemon walls, Blaine! We can't have lemon walls _and _lime bar stools. Our kitchen would be too citrus-y! Listen, if we had an extra room, we'd have space for all of your decor, like your lime bar stools and your chrome coffee table."

"Hold the phone," Blaine raised his hand, "You don't like my coffee table? Jesse, are you hearing this?"

"It's not a big deal. I'm just trying to help you have good taste."

"I have good taste!"

"Everyone thinks they have good taste, Blaine," Kurt smirked, "It's not like you're a hopeless case. You dress well."

"You dress me!"

"It's funny," Jesse smirked to himself, "This is how Brittany and I started off. Picking out paint samples and tiles. Bickering over whether to have a totally black kitchen or a Hello Kitty theme. Then you know what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing Surrey With a Fringe On Top in front of _Santana_!"

Kurt and Blaine were stunned silent.

"Do we have to talk about this right now?" Quinn asked under her breath.

"Yes, I think right now is the perfect time to talk about this," Jesse said in a rare fit of uncomposed agitation, "I want our friends to benefit from the wisdom of my experience. Right now, everything is great. Everyone is happy and everyone is in love and that's wonderful, but you gotta know that sooner or later, you guys are gonna be screaming at each other about who's gonna get... this dish!"

Jesse picked up a China glass dining dish from one of Kurt or Blaine's cardboard moving boxes.

"This twenty dollar dish will cost you a thousand dollars in phone calls of 'that's mine, this is yours'."

"Jesse!" Quinn snapped.

"Please, Quinn," Jesse sighed, "Kurt, Blaine, will you do me a favor? For your own good, put your names in your own books and DVDs right now before they get mixed up and you don't know whose is whose, because believe it or not, one day you'll go fifteen rounds of shouting over who's gonna get the copy of Forrest fucking Gump!"

"JESSE!" Quinn shouted.

His face was red now and he looked at her, furious, before he stormed out of the apartment. After the sound of the front door slamming, Quinn looked apologetically at Kurt and Blaine.

"He just bumped into Brittany," she tried to explain before hurrying off.

She found him ten minutes later, resting against the stoop outside Kurt and Blaine's apartment, wearing a gray peacoat that matched his eyes.

"I know. I shouldn't have done that," he said without even looking up at her.

"You're going to have to find a way of expressing your feelings a little bit better."

He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes against the sun and considering for a while what to say. "Really?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes. There's a time and place."

"Oh, yeah? Well, next time you're giving a lecture on social graces, let me know and I'll sign up," he said, standing.

"Hey! You don't have to take it out on me!"

"Oh, I think I'm entitled to, Quinn. Especially when I'm being told how to feel by Miss Bedside Manners!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that nothing bothers you! You never get upset about anything!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What? Sure, you get annoyed. Namely, by me. But you never cried over Sam! Don't you ever experience any feelings of loss?" Jesse criticized her harshly without his usual lighthearted mocking.

"I don't have to take this from you."

"If you're so over Sam, why aren't you seeing anyone?"

"I see people!"

"See people? You've slept with one person since you broke up with Sam! One person in the whole year and you didn't even like him. You know that a rebound is supposed to jumpstart your love life again, right? Not end it!"

"So what, Jesse? That proves that I'm not over Sam? Because I don't fuck anything in a skirt, like you? Sleeping with everyone in New York didn't really help you get over Brittany, did it, Jesse? Besides, it's not like you sleep with women because you like them. It's like you're doing it for revenge or something! You know what I think, Jesse? I don't think you're so upset because Brittany's gone! I think you're upset because you're stupid ego is bruised, because Santana, some inconsequential woman in your eyes, can give Brittany what you can't!"

Jesse blinked at her. "Are you finished?" he asked very calmly.

Quinn exhaled. "Yes."

"Can I say something?"

Quinn hesitated. "Yes."

Jesse looked at her for a moment and then sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry."

Quinn was both surprised and relieved as he pulled her into a hug. "I know," she sighed against his chest, "I know."


	5. When Jesse Met Lucy

One Month Later

Things were different now. Quinn could feel the difference in the air. Sure, she and Jesse were still best friends, but it wasn't the same as it used to be. They were dating people now and had less time for each other. In fact, most of the time when they saw each other, it wasn't trading stories at Serendipity or telling secrets in Central Park. It was usually at Kurt and Blaine's apartment playing cheesy board games with the other couples. Like now.

Quinn quickly drew a crude cartoon of a baby on a big marker board in Kurt and Blaine's living room, with the others shouting thoughtless guesses behind her.

"It's a monkey!" Blaine was shouting, "Monkey see, monkey do! It's an ape! Going ape!"

"It's a baby!" cried Tina.

Quinn nodded wordlessly and quickly started drawing a basic pair of lips with arrows pointing out of it.

"Baby breath," suggested Tina.

"Rosemary's Baby," Jesse said half-heartedly.

"Kiss the baby...?"

"Baby fish mouth! Baby fish mouth!" Blaine started calling.

Quinn rolled her eyes and just started drawing more arrows with more vigour as she got frustrated by the inane game.

"Baby boom," said Harmony, the chipper dark-haired girl who was sitting on Jesse's lap.

"Crying baby," said Tina.

"Draw something resembling anything!" Blaine shouted, his face getting red.

"Baby spitting up," said Jesse, "Exorcist baby!"

"Time's up," Kurt said with a smirk.

Quinn set down her marker and glared at her team. "Baby talk," she grumbled.

"Baby talk?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, "What is that? That's not a saying!"

"Oh, but baby fish mouth is sweeping the nation," Jesse smirked, and Harmony threw her head back and laughed loudly.

"Final score," said Mike, "Our team, 110, you guys, 60."

Quinn's team winced, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Joe get up from the armchair, smiling wryly with his dark dreadlocks falling over his shoulders.

"I can't draw," she groaned.

"Sure you can," Joe shrugged, "There's a baby and it's clearly talking." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Quinn, you want to help me make coffee?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, sure," Quinn nodded at her friend and followed him to the kitchen.

Kurt fetched a well-prepared cheese platter from the fridge and started cutting clumps of grapes onto it.

"Harmony's kind of young, isn't she?" Quinn mentioned as she turned on the coffee machine.

"Sure, she's young, but look at what she's done."

"What has she done?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "She's just a drama student."

"Yeah, but she's on all those PETA commercials."

Quinn's mouth dropped open. "_She's _the anti-horse drawn carriage girl?"

Kurt nodded. "Mm hm."

"I knew I recognised her," Quinn frowned, "Jesse doesn't even like animals."

"Joe is great."

"What? Oh, yeah. He's great."

In the living room, Jesse gently patted Harmony and slid out from under her. "Excuse me," he smiled sweetly at her, "Blaine, did you want to show me the new dining table?"

Blaine looked mildly surprised. "Uh, sure, Jesse. Harmony, help yourself to more wine."

The men walked off alone down to the dining room. "Real rosewood," said Blaine, switching on the dining room light.

"So what do you think about Joe?" asked Jesse, "I mean, the dreadlocks are weird. The mid-90s called, they want their grunge back, am I right?"

"Joe's a nice guy," sighed Blaine, "Really, you should hang out with him sometime."

"I don't think so," frowned Jesse, "His hair is too distracting. Did you know he was homeschooled? That can't be a good sign."

"Don't be so down on him. He took us all to a Met game last week. It was great."

Jesse narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "You all went to a Met game together?"

"Yeah, but it was a last minute thing."

"Quinn doesn't even like baseball."

Blaine paused. "Harmony's nice."

"Yeah, yeah, she's great. Of course, she's a vegetarian, though, so that won't do."

"You are way too picky. What's wrong with being a vegetarian? All you eat is salad!"

"It's fine to prefer the vegetarian option when you're thinking about health and fitness, but it's when your love for cute puppies and farm animals starts dictating your diet that you know you're doomed."

"Right. I forgot that for you, basic compassion is a turn off."

xxx

It was a few nights later that Jesse found himself unable to sleep and instead, curling up with a book at midnight. He took his bookmark out and started reading a new chapter of Flowers In The Attic, a Virginia Andrews novel that Quinn had read as a teenager and recommended. Jesse had half-expected something more 'Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants'-esque, but instead he found himself engrossed in child abuse, rape and incest. This book only proves his theory that Quinn was secretly a sociopath, but he kept reading nonetheless. He was quick to answer his cell phone when it rang.

"Hello?" he said formally, even though he already knew it was Quinn.

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah, I was just finishing a book."

"Could you come over?" she asked, and Jesse noticed the vulnerable wobble in her voice.

"What happened?"

"He's getting married."

"Who?"

"Sam."

Jesse pursed his lips. "I'll be right there."

Quinn was a mess when she opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and blotchy, and she sniffled. She hadn't even changed out of her scrubs yet, her hair wavy and unmade.

"Hi," she said quietly, afraid if she talked normally she would start to cry.

"Are you okay?" Jesse raised a dark eyebrow.

"Come in," she sniffed, "I'm sorry to call you so late."

"It's not a problem," said Jesse as he closed the door behind him, "Tell me what happened."

"He called. Saying he just wanted to see how I was," she said, wiping away her tears with embarrassment and sitting down on her couch, "And I said I was fine. And he said he was fine. And all I can think is that I'm over him, I'm really over him and I can't believe I was even remotely interested in him and... And then he said he had some news. She's a paralegal or something. Her name is Mercedes. He just met her! She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the one!"

Jesse took a seat beside her in his dark jeans and dark t-shirt, and squeezed her knee. "You'll meet someone."

"It's not that," she shook her head, "It's not that he met someone and I didn't. It's... Can I show you something?"

Jesse nodded uncertainly, and Quinn promptly took a photograph out of the pocket of her scrubs and handed it to him. Jesse examined the photo, a school yearbook clip of an overweight girl with raggedy brown hair, bad skin and an unfortunately lopsided nose. The girl had strangely familiar, pale green eyes.

"Quinn, is this...?"

"Me," Quinn sighed, looking vacant, "Me in middle school. When my name was Lucy."

"Lucy?" Jesse raised an eyebrow.

Quinn nodded slowly. "Before the nose job. Before I took up gymnastics. Before my mom hired a pricey dermatologist and let my sister take a bottle of peroxide to my hair. Before I started telling people to call me by my middle name, Quinn, because Lucy just reminded me of a mean nickname kids used to call me."

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Moosey Lucy?"

"Lucy Caboosey."

"Oh... Why are you telling me this?"

"I've come a long way from being Lucy," Quinn sniffed, "I thought if I left her behind and pretended to be confident, sophisticated, self-assured Dr. Quinn Fabray, people would look at me differently, and love me and think I was special and want to be around me like people wanted to be around a celebrity. But look at me now. Sam wanted to get married. He just didn't want to get married to me. He didn't love me."

Jesse frowned. The look on Quinn's face was so pathetic and heartbroken that he had to set down the picture of Lucy Fabray and take Quinn Fabray by the arms.

"Look at me," he said forcefully, "If you could take him back, would you?"

"No," Quinn rolled her damp eyes, "But why didn't didn't he want me? What's wrong with me?"

Jesse sighed. "So you make a few adjustments to make you look more like Grace Kelly. So what? You're still the same person and let me tell you, no matter what you could possibly look like, it doesn't change that you're the smartest woman I know, and the most interesting. And you're a decent person, Quinn. Coming from a well known tool, you, Quinn Fabray, are a good, good person."

"I'm difficult."

"You're challenging."

"I'm too structured."

"In a good way."

"No!" Quinn shook her head, "I drove him away! A-And... And I'm gonna be forty!"

Jesse furrowed his brow. "When?"

"Someday."

"In ten years..."

"But it's there. Looming like a dead end!"

Jesse sighed heavily. "Come here," he said, and pulled Quinn into him, "It's gonna be okay."

She sighed shakily and tucked her face into his neck, and squeezed her eyes shut. A few minutes later, after she breathed slowly on his neck and calmed down, she rose her head and looked up at him. He smiled, more sweetly and sincerely than Quinn had expected, and kissed her forehead.

"I'll make some tea," he said.

She frowned and grabbed a fistful of his dark shirt. "Wait, Jesse... Can you just stay here a little longer?" she asked.

"Of course I can," he said quietly and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her snuggly and holding her against his chest.

She was quiet for so long that Jesse was surprised when he heard her say, "You're not a tool."

"What?" he asked, confused, as she lifted her head and looked him straight in his marble gray eyes.

"You're a good guy," she said, looking vulnerable and somehow younger, "You're good, Jesse."

She kissed him, feather light on his cheek, and he noted that it felt more like a butterfly wing grazing him. He looked down at her graceful, sculpted face, staring into her eyes until he couldn't help but be drawn in by them, closing the gap between them until his lips were on hers for one sweet, mesmerizing kiss. Quinn pulled back, just a little, with her face still less than an inch away from his. She didn't say anything, but leaned back in and kissed him again. His hands moved tighter around her waist and pulled her in. His kisses were sweet and long, as if savouring every part of the moment they didn't know they'd been waiting for.

xxx

Quinn lay face down on the couch in the morning, and rolled over lazily. Her blond locks were untamed and a blanket was only covering her bottom half. She pulled the thin blanket up over herself and sat up to see that Jesse was already awake, pulling his jeans up and fumbling with his zipper.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, her disappointment obvious.

He looked at her and pulled his black shirt over his head. "I gotta go. I have to go home and change my clothes and go to work, and so do you, but after work I'd like to take you to dinner if you're free. Are you free?" he said all too quickly.

Quinn blinked and furrowed her brow at him, startled. "...Yes."

"Great, I'll call you later."

"Fine."

He gave her a quick peck on her forehead and was out the door, leaving her staring after him with a blanket pulled over her naked body.

xxx

Kurt and Blaine were still in bed when the phone rang, a cheerful ringtone rendition of 'Seasons of Love' from RENT filling their bedroom with sound.

"Yours," Blaine mumbled against his pillow.

Kurt sat up straight in bed in his silk pyjamas and answered his phone with a gruff, "Hello?"

"I'm sorry to call so early," Quinn said on the other line.

"Are you alright?" asked Kurt.

Blaine sat up, his hair an ungelled, curly mess. "No one I know would call this early," he said groggily, when suddenly his phone rang, the sound of Katy Perry belting 'Wide Awake'.

"Something bad happened," Quinn said to Kurt over the phone.

"What did you do?" Kurt asked gravely.

Blaine found his phone in the sheets and grumpily answered it. "No one I know would call this early," he greeted.

"I need to talk," Jesse said to Blaine on the other line.

"What's the matter?"

"I went over to Quinn's last night," said Jesse, "And one thing led to another and long story short, we had sex."

"Jesse came over last night," said Quinn, "Because I was upset that Sam was getting married, and then the next thing I know, we had sex."

Kurt and Blaine put their hands over their cellphones and quickly looked at each other. "They had sex!" they said simultaneously before turning back to their cellphones.

"That's great, Quinn," said Kurt.

"You should have done it sooner, Jesse," said Blaine.

"We've been saying you should get together for months."

"You two belong together. How was it?"

"How was it?"

"During was fine," said Jesse.

"I thought it was good," said Quinn.

"Then I felt suffocated."

"Then it got worse."

"I had to get out of there."

"He just disappeared."

"I feel so bad."

"I'm so embarrassed."

Blaine sighed. "I don't blame you."

"That's horrible," Kurt shook his head.

"It should have worked out, but it didn't."

"You shouldn't have slept with anyone after finding out your last boyfriend was getting married."

"Who's that talking?" asked Jesse.

"Is that Blaine?" asked Quinn.

"It's Anderson Cooper on the news," said Blaine.

"It's a Harry Potter movie," said Kurt.

"Call me later, okay?" said Blaine.

"I'll call you later," said Kurt.

"Okay, bye," said Jesse.

"Bye," said Quinn.

Kurt and Blaine set down their phones and looked at each other, bewildered.

"God," Kurt sighed.

"I know."

"Tell me I'll never have to be out there again."

Blaine laid back down and put his arm over his fiance's slender shoulders. "You'll never have to be out there again."

xxx

Quinn ran her fingers over the tablecloth as she waited for Jesse to arrive. She resolved that she would just tell him that last night was a mistake. It was a spur of the moment and ill-thought out... She just hoped she got to say it first.

Jesse nervously straightened his tie as he walked into Serendipity and found Quinn at their usual table. He practised what he needed to say in his head. 'Quinn, it was a mistake'. He felt his shoulders tense and he hoped that she said it before he did. He took a seat at their table and gave her a polite, strained smile. She nodded back, with her bedside manner expression, as if she was about to tell him that he'd never regain the use of his limbs again.

"It was a mistake," she said simply, breathing it out as if she'd been holding it in for a lifetime.

"I am so relieved you think so," he leaned forward, "I'm not saying last night wasn't great."

Quinn nodded, taken aback by how relieved he was. "It was. We just never should have done it."

"I couldn't agree more."

Quinn sighed. "I am so relieved," she said, forcing a smile.


	6. When The End Met The Beginning

Quinn lounged across a low couch, her eyes flitting to her cellphone every once in awhile as Kurt got his measurements taken for a kilt he planned to wear at his wedding.

"Is Jesse bringing anyone to the wedding?" she asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She and Jesse hadn't spoken much since what happened between them last week. Everything had changed so drastically and she hated it. She felt like she had broken up with someone, even though Jesse and her had never been a couple. She missed the way he smirked snidely at everything she said and the way she ignored him. And the way that even though he wrinkled his nose at her taste in everything - books, movies, music - he always secretly loved her recommendations. She liked the way he made her feel important and never lied to her. But mostly, in this moment, she just felt angry. Angry that she was another girl he slept with and ignored. She hated herself for it, too.

"I don't think so," said Kurt, examining two different silk fabrics.

"Is he seeing anyone?"

"He was seeing this anthropologist, but..."

"What did she look like?"

"Thin. Pretty. Big tits. Your basic nightmare," Kurt smirked.

Two Weeks Later

Quinn would have noted that Kurt and Blaine's wedding had been beautiful, if it weren't for the fact that as Kurt's maid of honor, she had to stand opposite Jesse, who was Blaine's best man, during the entire ceremony, trying to hone her self control and not look at him. She couldn't stop herself. Every time her eyes fluttered his way, she saw him staring back at her, and she looked away and blushed, embarrassed and cursing herself for even looking at him and wondering if he thought she looked pretty in her dusty pink dress.

"I've never seen him so happy," Tina whispered to her when the ceremony was over and the guests were dancing gingerly to some Judy Garland number, "It's like he's a different person."

"Yeah," Quinn nodded absentmindedly, realizing that Tina was talking about Kurt, "Blaine's a great guy."

"Honey," Mike said as he approached them and put his hand on the small of Tina's back, "You want to dance?"

"Oh, yeah," Tina smiled and let Mike whisk her away to the dancefloor with the other couples.

Quinn stood on the sidelines of the reception hall with a tall, thin flute of champagne in her hand. She turned her head and was caught off guard as Jesse approached, a slight smile on his face.

"Hi," he said casually, as if nothing had ever happened.

Quinn frowned and raised her chin. "Hello."

"Nice ceremony."

"Beautiful."

"Holidays are coming up."

"Mm hm."

"That's always rough."

"A lot of suicides."

"Yeah... So how've you been?"

"Fine."

"Are you seeing anybody?"

"Jesse-"

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she frowned at him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Quinn, when are we going to get past this? Are we going to be in this rough spot forever?"

"Forever? It just happened!"

"Three weeks ago! You know how one year to a person is like seven years to a dog?"

Quinn grimaced and glared at him. "Jesse. Is one of us supposed to be a dog in this scenario?"

Jesse nodded. "You are."

"I am? I am the dog?" Quinn glared at him, beginning to breathe heavily with frustration, "Come here."

She walked away and gestured for him to follow, storming off to a sunny spot on a balcony, away from the other wedding guests. She turned back to him to see his hands stuck in the pockets of his tux, waiting expectantly for her to scold him.

"Jesse," she said, all too calmly, "If anyone is the dog, you are the dog. You want to act like what happened three weeks ago doesn't mean anything."

"I'm not saying it doesn't mean anything. I'm saying, why does it have to mean everything?"

"Because it does, Jesse! I told you something I've never told anyone else before and I _gave _myself to you. All of me, and the second it's over, you walk out the door!"

"I didn't walk out."

"No, sprinted is more like it."

"We both agreed it was a mistake."

"And we were right! It was the worst mistake I ever made!"

"What do you want from me?" Jesse sighed with genuine exhaustion, like whatever she proposed, he would do.

"I don't want anything from you," she huffed.

"Fine, but let's get one thing straight, Quinn Fabray, I did not go over to your apartment that night with the intention of sleeping with you. But what was I supposed to do? You looked up at me with your big, green, pathetic eyes and you clutched my shirt, and I wanted to be there for you. So what?"

"So that's what it was? You took pity on me?"

"No, I was-"

"Fuck you!"

Quinn promptly slapped him in the face and stormed away from the balcony and back into the reception hall, her pink dress flowing behind her. Jesse was surprised by the sharp sting of her slap, but turned around without skipping a beat and followed her in.

"Everybody, could I have your attention please," Blaine was saying into a microphone on the low stage that the band had been playing on, with Kurt at his side, "I'd like to propose a toast to Jesse and Quinn."

Quinn stopped in her tracks behind the crowd that was gathered in the reception hall, and Jesse stopped behind her.

"Kurt and I used to think that if it weren't for Jesse and Quinn, we wouldn't be here today," said Blaine, "But we've come to learn that even though our best friends played a huge and important role in our relationship, we believe that wherever we were in our lives, fate would have brought us together. There's a word for that, I think. Honey, what's that word?"

"Serendipity, sweetheart," Kurt said into the microphone.

"Right," Blaine smiled, "Serendipity. Anyways, to Jesse and Quinn!"

The crowd clapped and smiled sweetly, looking over at the best man and maid of honor. Quinn smiled stiffly and politely, while Jesse flashed a big cheesy show face behind her.

xxx

Christmas came and passed, and Quinn had spent it alone. She'd received an invitation from relatives in Ohio and countless voicemails from Jesse, but she decided she was better off with a pint of rum eggnog and a turkey salad in her apartment, watching Home Alone. She didn't want anyone else around her, trying to cheer her up and inadvertently making her feel even more lonely.

The only one who ever made her feel like she wasn't alone, like she wasn't an outsider looking in, who made her feel like she was apart of one entity, was Jesse. And now even he had broken her heart. Sure, he was calling and calling, wanting to spend time with her, make it up with her, but Quinn didn't want that anymore. She was no longer content with being Jesse's best friend. She wanted him to love her. And she hated him for making her feel like that. She hated him.

And another thing she hated was the pathetic way she got both excited and depressed by the sound of his voice on her answering machine.

Voicemail 1: "Quinn, as you know, it's the holiday season, which some people like to say is the season of love and forgiveness. What a lot of people don't know is that it's also the season of grovelling, so if you'd be willing to call me back I'd be more than happy to offer you some traditional Christmas grovelling. Give me a call."

Voicemail 4: "Quinn, please pick up the phone. We need to talk. The fact that you're not answering leads me to believe that you're either, A, not at home, B, at home but you don't want to talk to me or C, at home, desperately wanting to talk to me, but you're trapped under something heavy. If it's either A or C, call me back when you get a chance."

Voicemail 6: "Obviously, you don't want to talk to me. That's apparent by now. But how long are you content with making me suffer like this? It's the holiday season, Quinn Fabray, and from what I've heard about your hardcore Catholic parents, you know how shitty the holidays can be. Call me. Please."

Voicemail 10: : "You know what, Quinn Fabray, I don't know what you want me to do anymore. If you want to call me, you can call me. I'm through making a fool of myself!"

Voicemail 12: "_Keep smiling, keep shining, knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That's what friends are for. In good times and bad times, I'll be on your side forever more. That's what friends are for-_"

"Hi, Jesse."

"Oh!" Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised that twelve voicemails later, Quinn actually picked up. And it was during a Stevie Wonder song. He knew all of that vocal training would pay off one day. "Hi, Quinn! I didn't know you were there. What are you doing?"

"I was just on my way out."

"Where are you going?"

"What do you want, Jesse?"

"Nothing... I just called to say I'm sorry."

"Okay... Well, I have to go-"

"Quinn, wait. What are you doing for New Year's? There's a staff party for the crew at my show and as it turns out, I don't have a date."

"Jesse, I can't do this anymore. Being your not-quite girlfriend. Goodbye."

xxx

New Year's Eve

Jesse lay on the chocolate brown sheets of his bed spread and couldn't help but remember how Quinn had picked them out. He'd opted to stay home for New Year's rather than go to a party with a bunch of his co-workers, who really didn't like him, anyways. He thought, however, that maybe watching New Year's Rockin' Eve in his bedroom could have been a mistake, seeing as how everything in his house was now warm and colorful and not at all like the dark fortress he'd made himself after divorcing Brittany, and it was all because of Quinn's perseverance and the help of her fashion-forward friend Kurt Hummel.

Jesse frowned blankly at his TV screen and wondered where Quinn was now. Probably at home, as well, avoiding the world. When he'd spoken to Blaine, he said that he and Kurt barely ever saw Quinn anymore. Jesse hated the thought of her holed up in her room, heartbroken and isolated because of him. All he wanted was to be with her tonight and order Chinese food and watch TV and pretend they were the only people left on earth. All he wanted was to listen to her talk about the things she liked and didn't like. All he wanted was to be her friend again. That is what he wanted, wasn't it?

Of course, when he thought about being Quinn's friend again, it sounded nice. It sounded fine. Until he realized that as well as wanting to be her friend, Jesse wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her soft lips, and he wanted to run his hands through her hair and he wanted to watch her walk towards him in a wedding dress. He wanted to fly away to Rome with her and have sex on the kitchen floor and when they were done with all that, he wanted her to have his baby. Thomas or Aniston or whatever the Hell she wanted to call the kid because her opinion was the only one that mattered.

Jesse turned off New Year's Rockin' Eve and ran.

xxx

Quinn stood out in her balcony because she felt like she couldn't breathe. She leaned against the railing and listened to the far away cheers of people celebrating New Year's Eve together. She was happy to spend tonight alone. Happy enough. She just couldn't help but remember how much happier she was last year, spending Christmas and New Year's Eve at Jesse's. His apartment had been full of D-list party guests he was supposed to be schmoozing with, but he wasn't. He was with her the whole time, only listening to her and talking to her and dancing with her. He made her feel so good, even when she was just his friend, and she hated him - hated him hated him hated him - for making her feel so good and then so bad.

Tears welled up in her eyes, just thinking about him, and she hated him for that. She hadn't cried a tear over Sam when they first broke up. Who did Jesse St. James think he was, making her care so much about him? She swore she could hear him right now, calling her name.

"Quinn!"

Quinn looked down over the railing and blinked the tears out of her eyes. There he was, in his dark jeans and leather jacket, waving his arms and calling her name. Quinn opened her mouth, in shock.

"Quinn, please, come down! Please! I need to say something!"

Quinn wordlessly turned away and went back inside. Jesse stood outside the apartment building with desperation on his face, waiting patiently, unsure if she was coming down or if she had gone back inside to ignore him some more. Sure enough, a minute later, she was outside her stoop in just a sweatshirt and jeans, still looking as effortlessly beautiful as she always did.

"What do you want, Jesse?" she said, raising her chin.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," said Jesse, "And the thing is, I love you."

"What?"

"I love you."

Quinn frowned. "How do you expect me to respond to that?"

"How about you love me, too?"

Quinn shook her head and sighed. "Jesse, you should go-"

"Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?"

"I'm sorry, Jesse," tears welled up in Quinn's eyes, "I know it's New Year's Eve and I know you're feeling lonely but you can't just show up here and tell me you love me and expect that to make everything alright. It doesn't work that way."

"Well, then how does it work?"

"I don't know, just not like this!"

"Well, then, how about this? I love that you never stopped liking 500 Days of Summer. I love that you like to read books about people whose problems are worse than your own. I love that your upper lip curls when you think something is disgusting. I love that whenever I say something funny you try hard not to laugh because you don't want to give me the satisfaction. I love that when I spend the day with you I can still smell the perfume on my clothes when I go home. I love that you are the first person I want to see when I wake up and the last person I want to talk to at the end of the day. And it's not because I'm lonely and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Tears ran down Quinn's face and she shook her head at him, annoyed. "See? This is so typical of you, Jesse! You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you! And I do. I hate you. I really hate you."

Quinn ran down the steps of her stoop and threw herself into Jesse's arms, and he held her tightly and kissed her on the dot of midnight.

Two Years Later

"The first time we met we hated each other," smirked Jesse, squeezing his wife's hand as she lay on a hospital bed.

"The second time we met, you didn't even remember me," Quinn frowned.

"Of course I did!"

"No, that's right, you did, you just pretended not to."

"Exactly. The third time we met, we became friends."

"We were friends for a long time."

"And then we weren't."

"And then we fell in love. Three months later, we were married."

"Only took three months."

"Well... Twelve years and three months."

"The wedding was wonderful."

"It really was."

"The cake was beautiful. It was vanilla and coconut, with tierres and this great Brazilian chocolate sauce on the side."

Quinn smirked. "It was important to put it on the side."

"Well, some people don't like it on the cake because it could make it soggy, particularly because the coconut sucks up a lot of moisture. Especially if you like your chocolate sauce slightly heated..."

"Right," grinned Dr. Shultz, straightening her glasses, "So have you decided on a name for the baby?"

"Thomas Henry for a boy," Quinn smiled.

"And Rebel Aniston for a girl," smirked Jesse.

Quinn smiled blithely at her husband. "I'm praying for a boy."


End file.
